False Humanity
by Quietic
Summary: I knew I was different from the start, and denying was all I did. Now I realize I have to face myself and the monster lurking under my skin, before I destroy or hurt those I love. If only I could stop being selfish. Rated T for violence, and language. Rating is subject to change with future chapters. Slight/iffy OOC Avengers. OC is the main focus.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone, long time no see. Here is a story I've been working on for a while; set in the Marvel, Avengers fandom. Right now my OC (original character) in the story has no particular love interest, but I'm working on it. (Of course a fic of mine would be nothing without a love interest!)**

**For a bit of information on my OC, her full name is Emily Daines, and she is 26. **

**Also my plot is a little iffy on this, as I'm writing without thinking and piecing everything together (as always). **

**I hope you enjoy, please follow/watch/review if you would like to see more. I have Chapter Two pre-written, while I'm still working on Chapter Three. Updates may be slow, quick, or long-in-waiting, as my life see fits.**

**~Quieti:c**

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Chapter One:

I can't open my eyes. I try, but they're heavy and it feels as if someone glued them shut. It's extremely quiet; all I can hear is my blood pounding hard. It's a struggle to remember what happened—my mind is swimming with images of a darkened ally . . . we were ambushed . . . someone . . . someone betrayed us?

Finally my eyes wrench open, and it's extremely painful. I blink rapidly, the red around my vision unnerving. Only now do I notice the rope biting into my wrists. I try struggling against the bonds but it's no good, and I seem to be disarmed.

"Finally awake? Good—I was getting bored." A female voice. High, aristocratic. I don't recognize it.

My body aches as I try to turn myself towards the sound. "Where am I?" My voice is just above a whisper. A tortured, pained whisper, and I am ashamed to show weakness in front of the enemy.

A low, melodic laugh fills my ears, and the sound of heels against concrete approach slowly. "Oh my dear, you do not need to worry about that. Your friends will never find you."

The word _friends_ resonates sickly in my mind. I struggle against the binds once again, panic causing my breath to quicken. "What did you do to them?!"

My mind flashes back—yes, I remember now; we went out on a mission, Tony, Natasha, Steve and I. The others were supposed to meet us later. Supposedly, an anonymous informant had contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. and told them where we could find one of our most wanted. But it was an ambush . . . gunfire came out of nowhere, and there was this fire . . . this horrible, blood red fire that rained down on us. We fought . . . but . . . Tony fell, and I froze up . . . it's black after that.

"What. Did. You. Do." I repeat, almost growling through my clenched teeth.

She lets out another, lighthearted giggle, and I feel a hand caress my shoulder as she slowly walks around my chair and stands in front of me.

Definitely not what I was expecting—but then again, when you work for S.H.I.E.L.D., nothing should ever surprise you. She stood, tall and elegant, looking down her straight nose with deep black eyes. Soulless eyes. Her hair was dressed in perfect blond curls, which cascaded down her back, and she wore a deep red business suit.

"Oh, my lovely little thing, I did nothing to your friends. I let them go. I have no interest in boring little tools. However, you; I have much interest in you." Her full, red lips curved upwards in a menacing smile, her colourless eyes sparkling with menace. She took a step back and looked me over, nodding her head as if in approval. "Red suits you."

I couldn't help but spit at her feet. Her smile faltered and turned into a scowl of mock disgust, and she took another step back.

"Why me?" I asked, playing along, but also pretty curious. I tried not to show how much it relieved me to hear she did not harm them—but at the same time I knew she could be lying.

Her devilish grin was back. "Oh, you're not like the others."

Well that was very informative. "How so? Natasha and I are one in the same. I am no stronger than the others, I have no special skills. Initially, I'm the weakest in the group, as I have nothing magical or scientific imbued in me."

She seemed amused by my answer, and crossed her arms languidly over her chest, shifting her weight to one foot. "That's where you're wrong, my darling. You hide yourself from them; if they are really your friends, why would you be afraid?"

I jerked in shock, and stared up at her silently. She smirked and stepped closer, reaching out and gently brushing her hands on my face, my cheeks, and along my forehead, where she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled.

"How did you know about that?" I asked, my voice shaking. No one knew about that. _No one._ Not except my family . . . and they would never tell anyone . . . not unless . . .

"Oh, calm yourself my dear thing." she coos to me, brushing out my hair with her fingers. She sighs almost longingly as she pets it smooth against my shoulders and neck. "I have done no harm to any of your loved ones for such information—in fact, it wouldn't be so hard for your friends to find out if they just knew where to look. Didn't they ever think it strange your hair always stayed in perfect place and you constantly had this hood up?"

My lips quivered in response. Technically, it wasn't that big of a deal. I wasn't any mutant, or an alien. The only thing different . . . or strange about me, was my hair. My naturally white hair. The reason I was shunned, scolded, and beaten as a child. It was one of my only weaknesses, and I had been running from it my whole life.

Why not shave it off, why not colour it? I tried. I cut my hair off and I was made even more a fool, and when I had tried to dye it, it rinsed right out. I convinced myself it was a curse; a curse for all the sins and horrible things I have done throughout my life.

"There, there," her soft murmuring snaps me back to attention. She is caressing my face in the most intimate manner, wiping wetness from my cheeks. I am shaking with fear, rage, and worry. I feel sick, and my head is pounding.

"Stop." I snap, turning my head away from her.

She ticks at me like a mother annoyed with their child, and it only angers me more.

"Who are you?" I ask, staring at the dirty floor. Looking at her, seeing those dark eyes look back at me, was too unnerving right now.

"My name is Ibis. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my darling Emily."

This time I do not show my surprise. Seemingly, this woman knows everything about me, even the stuff I've never shared with anyone. And that was the only reason I was afraid.

"How . . ." I choke out, closing my eyes in frustration. I was strong, and yet I was cowering, shaking like a newborn babe. And it killed me that I hoped _they_ would come to my rescue. But if they saw me like this . . .

"I've been watching you for a while," she says nonchalantly, taking a seat in a chair I hadn't noticed before. She delicately crossed her legs, and raised her chin to continue looking down at me. "You're such an interesting woman. You love your friends, your coworkers, and your family with fierce, unbridled passion . . . and yet you go every day hiding from them, fearing their eyes upon your face for too long. Why?"

"Shouldn't I be the one with questions?" I spit harshly, snapping my head back to attention.

Her lips form an ill-shapen, lopsided smile that makes my skin crawl. "Oh, of course, but I do believe I have been waiting the longest." She tilts her head as she looks to me, then her gaze wanders somewhere behind me, where she waves a hand.

Not a second later a short, petite female with short black hair and wearing a spotless, wrinkle-free white suit scurries to her side, and leans in as Ibis whispers in her ear. She nods seriously and disappears behind me again, where I hear a door slide open and closed.

"I want to get you cleaned up; I'm terribly sorry for how my men treated you, but I had no other choice if I wanted to finally meet you."

I raised my eyebrows in sarcastic confusion. "If you know so much about me, you couldn't call, or come for a visit?"

She lets out a laugh that somehow has my stomach in knots. "Sadly not, or I wouldn't have taken such extreme measures. I don't intend to hurt you."

"If you don't intend to hurt me, then why am I still bound?"

"Because you would run, and I am not done talking to you yet." Her smile fades but her eyes are still alight with amusement.

I hear the door open and close again and the tiny girl drags a table to the side of the chair I am bound to. Then she sets down a large bowl and a couple wash cloths. She nods to her boss and exits silently.

Ibis pulls her chair close so our knees are touching, and she casually starts soaking one wash cloth in the bowl. I watch her silently, and the over all calmness of the situation is what has me unnerved.

As an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., I'm used to hostage situations. Captures. Interrogations. But Ibis . . . what was her intention? Apparently she did not want me here to lure the others or my agency. She showed no violence or apparent menace. I was well taught in psychology, the working mind of all kinds of killers, psychopaths, kidnappers, stalkers . . . but she didn't fit.

She meets my gaze and smiles as if she knew what I was thinking, then wrings the cloth before bringing it to my face, where she scrubs gently at my forehead. I crinkle my nose as her actions only make my head throb harder. She frowns and ticks again, a look of disappointment crossing her straight features.

"So, you have been waiting longer to ask me what questions exactly?" I ask after she sets down the now—disturbingly—bloodied washcloth.

She smiles and leans back, setting her hands in her lap. When she does not respond I raise my eyebrows.

"Why do you hide yourself from those you care about?" she asks finally, although she doesn't look pleased with herself.

"Because it would change the way they look at me." I say after another moment.

"You know they truly care for you, and you should know that people who truly care for you wouldn't care about something so minimal."

I don't respond. Instead I stare silently back into those soulless eyes.

"Or maybe . . ." she says, sounding a little reluctant. "Or maybe it's because you fear something you don't even understand?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, sincerely confused.

There's another pause of silence, and she looks deep into my eyes, as if she's expecting something. "Why do you think you have white hair?"

I blink a couple of times. That was a lot less anticlimactic than I had been expecting. This woman was so strange. I shrugged as best I could in response to her question, cringing partway through when I realized the action made my back feel like it was splitting in half. "A long time ago, when I was younger, I convinced myself it was a curse to make me suffer judgment and humiliation for my more than unholy actions."

"Do you believe in God then?"

"No," I said after thinking about it. "Not until I met . . . someone. I would think if there was a God he would be more merciful, but who knows."

She nodded silently, as if this were some therapeutic session. I squirmed uncomfortably in my binds under her scrutinizing gaze.

"You think more than that though, don't you, Emily?" She broke the long silence, almost startling me.

"I don't understand what you're implying," I stared back at her, completely lost.

"You think it's more than just a curse, don't you? Something . . . otherworldly. You want to believe there's a reason for it—you also want to fit in with your friends . . . but yet you fear being anything other than human. This is another reason why you interest me. You are so confused in yourself."

I swallow hard, unable to say anything, as now my tongue feels as if it's made of lead. This woman had to be playing some kind of mind tricks . . . maybe she had drugged me; I couldn't know. She stared just as silently back at me with her blank eyes and it felt like she was ripping out my mind to see what lay there.

"I . . ." Was what came out of my mouth. How could she be right? How could she know this, when I never spoke of it out loud, when I never confided in any one?

She smiles, almost sadly. "I'm going to give you a choice."

The tremors rocking my body slow as I tense at her words.

Ibis takes a deep breath and stands, smoothing out her skirt. "I'm going to untie you. You can leave, without any of my men or myself stopping you. Or . . . or you can stay and listen to the truth. The truth of why you have white hair. Of why . . . of why you do not belong on Earth."

I blink blindly up at her as she walks behind my chair and I feel the ropes becoming slack. Why would she just let me go? Just like that? Why was she giving me a choice? Of course, I didn't really believe the whole, "I kidnapped you but now I'm letting you go without getting anything out of this" bullshit.

I quickly stand once I am fully unbound and my legs, well my whole body, screams in protest. I have to lean myself against the table, which shakes with my struggle to stay upright.

And then I bolt for the door. There is no way in hell I am staying here and listening to this crazy bitch if I really had the chance of getting out of here alive with no strings attached.

I get to the door, where another short girl stands at attention, again dressed in bright white. She pays me no mind as the door slides open to greet me and I stumble into the hallway.

It's a chore to breathe and I only make it halfway down before I have to lean against the wall to prevent my knees from giving out. I had never felt so pathetic or weak in my life.

"Emily." I look up at the sound of my name. Ibis stands a few paces away and holds out my brown wig in her hand. There's a small smile on her face, but her eyes do not meet the gesture. "You still wouldn't want them knowing, would you?"

I eye her, unconvinced, but because I am already weak and there's not much else she can do to me, I walk to her and snatch the hair from her hands.

Carefully I pull my hair back and try to situate the wig best I can without a mirror. Then I tug my hood over my head and begin to walk down the hallway again.

"You're not human." She says behind me. My footsteps falter.

_Keep going._ I scream inside my head. But I can't move. _Go. Leave. Go home. Don't listen to her. She's lying. She's crazy._

I bite down on my tongue, clenching my fists in a tight ball, and continue walking.

"You never compared yourself to the other children when you were younger? To your peers? That you learned quickly—not just out of intelligence but because it was just so easy. Too easy. You never thought it weird you could run for miles without breaking a sweat? Without losing your breath? It never surprised you how quickly you healed from wounds, or how much your body could withstand?"

The room around me seems to collapse beneath my feet, but in reality I don't move. I can't. I shake my head slowly, squeezing my eyes shut as her words seep in.

"No," I murmur, still shaking my head. "I was just an intelligent child. I had good stamina. I was healthy. I was human." _I am human._

"But you don't believe that, do you?" her voice is next to my ear, but I can't even flinch in response. I just stand there and shake, trying to deny the thoughts she's shoving into my head.

"You're doing this on purpose!" I scream, and get no response but deafening silence ringing in my ears. "Stop putting shit in my head!"

"It's always been there," she murmurs close to my ear again. "You've always known, Emily, but you've never wanted to except it."

My eyes fall closed and warm tears trickle down my cheeks. I'm still shaking my head. I don't think I can stop. It's like my body is on autopilot and I'm watching myself implode from a distant view. "No . . . no. I'm human. How could I be anything else?" My voice sounds so tiny and broken.

Ibis coos quietly from behind me, and I feel her hand on my shoulder. She slowly turns me around to face her but I don't open my eyes.

After a minute of the only sound being my ragged breathing and pounding heart and head, I open my eyes. Her soulless orbs only unravel me further but I try my best to suck it up and keep calm.

She's the enemy. She's doing this on purpose. She's trying to get inside my head, plant darkness and deceit so I slowly kill myself off so she doesn't have to get her hands dirty. I've seen it happen all the time. Except . . . except . . . I could feel the truth in her words. And that's what hurt so badly.

"How . . . how would you know that I'm not human? If . . . If I am?"

"Because here on Earth, I am the all-seer. Like your friends Heimdall from Asgard. He sees all in the universe, and he is not alone. However, I received my powers . . . in a very different manner. I am attracted to watching trouble, darkness, and chaos. Heimdall protects, serves, and guards. I destroy, betray, and hide behind others."

I swallow harshly, but her words do not scare me. I knew she wasn't a good guy, not in any situation. It was her eyes . . . those knowing eyes which her words now give reason to the strangeness of them.

"If you watch darkness . . . then . . . why were you attracted to watching me?" I murmur almost against my own will. I want to sew my mouth closed and walk out of here. But her gaze and words hold me solid and . . . and I can't seem to leave until I know the truth. The truth that's been haunting me all these years.

"Because you come from darkness. Not necessarily are _you_ dark, but there is darkness in you. The anger, the other unbridled thing you contain within yourself—the biting, nagging malice that makes your skin crawl. It's originally why you joined S.H.I.E.L.D., and why you tried to keep yourself distanced from normal people. People that couldn't protect themselves against you."

It hurts how much her words ring true. But I couldn't . . . I couldn't be "bad". Yet I knew, deep down, there was something wrong with me. With that unreasonable, almost constant seething.

"Is that all?" I'm defeated. Not only was I physically beaten but now it felt like what soul I had left was leaking out of me.

"For this time." she murmurs, finally dropping the hand that was on my shoulder.

"There's going to be a next time?" She really is crazy if she thinks I would come back here. Willingly or not, I'd rather die than see this bitch again.

"You are going to eventually want to know more, but for now you need to get home to your friends. I am sorry, Emily. I truly am. Today I spare you most of your sanity. Enjoy your friendships, enjoy your human life. It will no longer be available to you once you know who you truly are . . . and when others find out."

I soak in her words slowly. But I feel totally numb that I cannot react in a decent way anymore.

"Do not tell your friends about today. Lie to them. Do not tell them about me, about you. I don't want to have to silence them. And I know you would not want them silenced. My being here on Earth is a secret to all but you and my men now, and if any one else knew, they would have to die."

Her words still ring through my head as the cold rain pours in sheets over me. Somehow I've managed to get myself back near Stark tower, but I cannot bring myself to walk across the street. I can barely hold myself up, and do not care as people pass me by with concerned and disgusted expressions. I lean on a street lamp for support, and stare silently up at the glowing letters of the building, shining brightly despite the heavy rain and fog.

She told me to cherish this . . . to cherish them. But if I were to really lose them someday, because of the truth of my . . . race, would it be better to forget them now? The people who had been there for me, supported me, even if they didn't know all of _me_, they had stood over me when I had fallen and helped me back up over and over again. Despite being below them, they looked up at me, with smiles on their faces. _I was one of them. I always would be._

I didn't notice when I had collapsed onto the sidewalk. I just lay there, feeling an unsettling calm wash over me as my eyes slid closed.

The last thing I heard, was footsteps pounding towards me.

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**A/N: And that's Chapter One everybody! I hope you enjoyed, I would really appreciate some feedback as this is the first time I'm publicly publishing any of my Avengers/Marvel works.**

**Chapter Two and Three should not be too long-coming after this, but I sadly can't make any promises.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello once again everyone, here is chapter two. I think it's a bit longer than chapter one, but I still hope you enjoy. I apologize in case I overlooked any spelling/punctuation/grammar mistakes.**

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Chapter One:

The pain in my body was never relieved, even when I was sleeping. I had figured someone had found me and taken me home, but I didn't give it much thought. The bed I was laying in was warm but my bones ached anyways. I woke up what felt like every five minutes, then would fall back into a restless, nightmare filled sleep.

Finally, when my eyes wrenched open for the last time, the room was full of daylight. I squinted as I peered out the wall to my left, which overlooked the busy life of New York. I didn't recognize this room, but I didn't doubt there were places I had never seen in this tower. I kicked off the covers and sat upright, making my head spin. I had to sit still and close my eyes while my body adjusted.

Then suddenly I heard more footsteps, this time bounding into the room. I didn't turn, just kept my shoulders slumped and eyes closed, shakily reaching to make sure my wig was still in place, and thank god it was.

The footsteps walked around the bed and when I finally opened my eyes, Tony was standing before me. His lip was busted, his nose was slightly out of place, and it looked like he had gotten stitches on the side of his head. My heart twisted knowing it had been me that had gotten them attacked.

I stood, or, well, tried to stand, but my legs were still weak. Tony caught my arm and flashed me a look of worry.

"What happened to you?" he asked. His voice was low, and I was surprised he sounded choked with emotion.

When I looked up into his eyes I really did almost collapse at the sight of wetness in their corners.

I opened my mouth but I didn't know what to say to him. I wanted to tell him the truth, but Ibis said she would silence anyone who knew . . . and I couldn't kill any of my friends, even if it was to save the lives of many more. I couldn't think of a lie, a good lie, because I knew he would see through it. They all would, they were trained to know lies when they heard them. I was unprepared, I didn't know how to face them yet. All I could do was shake my head and try to ignore the look of betrayal in his eyes.

Then another voice came from the doorway. Tony stepped back an inch but kept a hold on my arm since I still wobbled unsteadily. He met my eyes and I could see the disappointment there—that I didn't trust him enough to confide in him—and it killed me. I looked to the floor, utterly ashamed.

"Emily," It was Natasha. Tony helped me to the doorway. At least she didn't seem as beaten up as Tony. I couldn't help but slam myself against her form, wrapping my arms around her. She seems surprised but stayed silent as she returned my hug.

I could practically feel them sharing glances over my shoulder, but I kept my face buried in her neck, trying not to cry. I had to be strong, stronger than whatever was inside of me, in order to protect these people which I held so dear. But I didn't know how to do that, not when I was so weak on my own.

"What happened?" she spoke into my shoulder, which slumped in defeat. I wouldn't be able to give her an answer either, and I know neither of them, plus the others, would give up on pestering me about it until I gave them the truth—or a lie they could buy.

I pulled back and quickly swiped under my eyes, which I could see surprised Natasha. Her eyebrows furrowed deeper over her brown eyes and she set her hands on my shoulders, looking me over shakily. "What did they do to you?"

My lips quivered. "Nothing," I spoke finally. "Absolutely nothing." I shook my head and tried my best to keep my tears from overflowing. I turned away from Natasha so I wouldn't have to meet her concerned but confused eyes, and I couldn't bring myself to look at Tony, either.

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but I hastily interrupted. "I-I need a shower."

Besides the cuts and bruises, my suit was still a little damp and sticking to me. I didn't doubt I was covered in blood and mud, among who knows what else.

She said nothing, but nodded, and looked to Tony, who took my arm and led me to a door on the left. "You can use my bathroom," he said as he flipped on the light. He kept trying to meet my eyes, but I refused to let him see my guilt.

So this was his room—I probably should have guessed, however. I hadn't been in everyone's rooms, but this seemed to be one of the highest up and pretty elaborately decorated. Only the best for Tony Stark.

"Thank you," I murmured. He left the bathroom but I kept the door open, and looked at myself in the mirror. I almost gasped but bit my tongue.

My lip, was too, busted and swollen. There were various cuts on my face, among where streaks of blood and dirt. My suit was tattered more than I thought it was, and blood soaked most of my upper arms and chest.

_Anyone else would have been dead or incapacitated._ My mind whispered sickly, only reminding me of everything all over again.

"_It never surprised you how quickly you healed from wounds, or how much your body could withstand?"_ Ibis's voice joined in, echoing uncomfortably in the back of my head.

I was jolted out of my revere when Natasha appeared behind me in the mirror. She seemed surprised I had been startled so easily. I was a pretty paranoid person, but I was never one to be jumpy. Especially at home, here in the tower. However, she said nothing and stepped beside me, setting a bundle of clothing down on the counter top.

She stared down at the clothes and then looked up to me, even though I was still staring at myself in the mirror.

"Please, Emily, tell me what happened."

My throat felt so thick I thought for a moment I couldn't breathe. "I-I can't Nat . . . not right now. Just . . . Just give me some time to think. I-I'll tell you after I shower, alright?"

She flattened her lips into a slight frown, but nodded silently. She turned to leave, but then stopped.

"Just know, Emily, that you can tell me, and all of us anything. It won't change how we look at you. We know you're a strong woman. That's why you're a part of the team. We would never see you differently because of one weakness or another." She met my eye in the mirror and then shut the door behind her.

I knew she wasn't talking about me, or what I was, or even my hair. She thought I was afraid of them thinking me weak because I was captured. But the words still left me feeling hollow and pathetically hopeless. I locked the door and took a deep breath.

I had to tear most of my suit to get it completely off, and then once I was fully stripped I pulled off my wig and then clambered into the overly-fancy shower and turned the water on.

The heat felt good, but any feeling of pleasure was washed away when I saw the water turn red beneath my feet. There were some cuts and bruises on my legs but the worst were on my arms, chest and face. I scrubbed my skin with a random soap bar and didn't feel clean until the water ran clear again.

Then, I turned the water on as hot as it would go and sat down under the shower head. I felt my own hot tears pour down my face but they were lost in the scalding water. My skin and body rippled in pain but I didn't move. I couldn't. I felt dirty and broken. The hot water would do nothing, of course, but the pain took my mind off of everything if just for a while.

I couldn't say how long I sat there. The water started going to a more lukewarm after what seemed a long while, but my skin was so raw by now I could barely feel it.

However, when I heard voices outside the door, I knew I had been sitting in here longer than what would be considered normal, even for someone who needed privacy. I didn't move, couldn't even bring myself to try and uncurl myself from my spot on the showers floor, and I couldn't even bring myself to care my hair was exposed. I just drooped my shoulders and curled into myself more, pulling my legs into myself and burying my face in the crevice of my knees.

"How long has she been in there?" It was Steve's voice.

"About two hours," Natasha replied. "I thought she was just taking her time to compose herself but the water hasn't stopped running. And the door's locked."

"Well bust in there!" Tony said.

"Back up," I heard her muffled voice say, and I didn't react or startle when I heard the door being kicked in.

Natasha rushed to my side, pulling the curtain partially back, and I heard her intake of breath. Luckily, I don't think Steve or Tony heard as they didn't join us in the room.

She dropped to her knees and reached out to touch me, but her hand fell to her side.

"S-she's fine you guys." she said over her shoulder. I heard two sighs of relief. "Shut the door." She turned back to me and I heard the door close.

"Emily," she murmured, her voice broken.

It took all I had left inside me to look up at her. I don't know what plastered the shock on her face more: my hair or the bright red rawness of my skin, which I was pretty sure was probably bleeding by now.

"What did you do?" she whispered, and turned off the water quickly. She reached onto a low shelf and carefully wrapped a towel around my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. She made me sit on the toilet.

She moves her eyes down to where my wig lay, and slowly, she bent to pick it up. She held it, looking at it clenched in her fist, and then turned her gaze on me, confused. "Why would you wear a wig?"

If I didn't feel so numb I might have laughed. I just looked at her and the brown mess of hair with hooded eyes. Of course, she wouldn't react as badly as I had thought. It was just hair after all, but hair that proved I wasn't human. I shook my head, squeezing my eyes closed.

"What's going on with you?" she asked more firmly. Natasha wasn't one to pussyfoot around, and even more so when it had to do with work and the team.

Her question rung in my ears. How was I supposed to answer? The problem was, even _I _didn't know what was going on with me. How could I say anything? All I could manage was a halfhearted shrug and avoid her piercing gaze.

I could see her expression from the corner of my eye. And she was pissed. But I think she took pity on me because she said nothing, just shook her head and stormed out of the bathroom, wig in hand. The door slammed behind her and I flinched. And then I could hear the others, "What the hell is that?"

"A wig?"

"Why?"

"Why a wig? Why would she wear a wig?"

"What is she hiding?"

"What happened in there?"

"Did she say anything?"

I covered my ears with my hands and again closed my eyes, willing the hot tears to stop burning my cheeks. How was I supposed to protect these people if they were too stubborn or nosy to let me think straight for two minutes? My mind was still spinning in circles and Ibis's voice still echoed in the back of my head; my friends looks haunted me with insane guilt and embarrassment. I sighed heavily as the questions got louder, Natasha's replies were short and sounding just as confused as the rest of them.

"_Act tough. It's what you've always done, so why not now?"_

I startled at the sound of Ibis's voice. I looked around quickly, my heart catching in my throat, and all I could do was sit still and listen again, but nothing made a sound except my teammates closing in on me.

_Act tough._ It was true though, when things got the better of me I put out this facade where it seemed I was in control and knew what I was doing. _So why not now?_ It repeated, just the same as before. This time, however, it was not my body that startled into action. It was my mind.

Quickly, I took a couple deep breaths and then rose to my feet, clinging to the towel still around my shoulders. My back was burning harshly, raw from the water still, but—with reluctant realization—I knew it wouldn't take long to heal. I rubbed my body gently with the towel, making sure I was dry before I slipped on the clothes Nat had brought me. The voices outside had died but I could hear them breathing, pacing, waiting for me to come out.

Nervously I brushed out my hair, playing with it in between my fingers, and realized this was one of the first times in a long, long while that I would be appearing before people with my natural hair. I closed my eyes tight and had to take another deep breath, supporting myself on the sink.

Nat had not reacted in the way I thought. And I knew the others wouldn't either. It wasn't rejection, or fear, or disgust. But it was betrayal and confusion. And that is what I would have to face. Something I had not been expecting, something I never could have expected. And maybe it would have been easier if they had been scared or repelled. Then that way, I would know what to do, instead of feeling like I was walking blind onto a mine field.

I swallowed hard, tucking my hair behind my ears, and then quickly shaking it out again stupidly, before I padded my way to the bathroom door, where it seemed the others were listening, and held their breath as I turned the doorknob

Everyone was there now, except for Thor, who was probably still in Asgard, completely blissful in unknowing. Each pair of eyes were on me, and I had to make sure my face wasn't red or tearing up with embarrassment. It was like elementary school all over again. The day I realized I wasn't a normal child and grew up thinking I was some kind of freak. Turns out, I wasn't exactly wrong.

Tony opened and shut his mouth quite a few times, his face red, with both surprise and anger it seemed. I couldn't help but cringe slightly, preparing myself for the rejection I was hoping would happen, but suddenly the room grew a bit less tense and everyone's expression's softened. Except for Tony's.

"What the hell?" His voice seemed to strain for the correct use of tone. When I looked up he held my wig in his fist, shaking it at me.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I don't know, Tony. I mean, I do know. I just don't know how or where to start explaining."

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "Well you better start now, and quickly."

"Tony," Steve murmured, but quickly shut his mouth at the glare being sent his way.

I took a deep breath, and when I opened my mouth I was at a loss for words. I had never really talked about it. Never really even thought about it. I didn't want to, and I didn't need to. Not when no one knew to ask questions.

"Go on." Tony said between his teeth. His fists were shaking at his sides and he was pacing like a madman. And it made me think: why was this affecting him so badly? Had I hurt his ego so badly with one thing I never shared with him?

"I was born with this." I said after a minute, and I thanked the Gods for my voice sounding flat and emotionless. "This, I mean, my hair." It seemed everyone had grown so quiet now, even Tony, who still looked pissed, but a little more calm now that I was talking.

"My mother and father had brown hair, as did my siblings. No one in my family had hair like I did. My father even accused my mother of having an affair. But they never spoke to me about it. They took me to specialists, DNA testing was done, but it came out normal, like any other persons. But to my family I was this . . . abomination, and they were embarrassed to take me out in public and be bombarded with questions.

"When I started schooling it wasn't much different. The kids avoided me like the plague. They stared and laughed and alienated me. It continued through high school, and it seemed as if not a day passed by where I did not feel on a different spectrum than them. I was the "hag", the "albino", and well, you can imagine what else."

I felt a small smile curve my lips and I felt my eyes prick with tears, but I kept my gaze far off, somewhere beyond the glass wall overlooking New York. "And still not a day goes by where I have to sit and wonder why I deserved so much . . . ill feelings. I ran from my home, where I never felt welcome, and I came here. Of course, I wore my wig, but I felt that I was safe here. At home. I was scared if I took off my mask it would be just the same as everywhere else. And you must forgive me for not trusting my own friends."

It was silent for a moment, and I did not dare meet anyone's gaze.

"That's all?" Tony said. I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly, but he sounded slightly disappointed. By the sound Natasha smacking his arm I guessed I heard right.

"So what about what happened during our last mission?" He asked, and when I met his eyes they were once again angry and searching. "What the hell happened to get you bloodied and beaten in the middle of the sidewalk like that?"

I swallowed. I had to think fast and efficiently or this could all blow up in my face.

"Well, um." I stuttered stupidly, and I shook my head, staring at the ground, panicking.

"Maybe we should go downstairs to sit and finish answering questions? Huh, Tony?" Nat elbowed him in the ribs and they spent a minute glaring at each other before finally he grumbled in defeat and lead the way to the stairs.

It was silent and extremely awkward as we made our way to the living room area of Tony's suite, where the large leather sofas looked inviting. I took my seat, and everyone else did around me.

"Continue." Tony ordered, avoiding another jab from Natasha.

I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at them. My pale, slender hands that were no longer human to me. I clenched them together to hide the shaking, digging my nails into my skin.

"Well, obviously, it was a set up. But I'm still confused about it." I shook my head, hoping I sounded very convincing and looked distraught and lost. "Apparently it was, well, a lure to get me on the field . . ." I trailed off and squeezed my eyes closed, hoping they would blame it on a painful memory and not my own panicking. I had to think fast, dodge bullets, and stick as close to the truth as possible without endangering their lives or revealing my non-human heritage.

"So I guess I've had a stalker. Their name was something like . . . Shawn or Shane, I didn't hear much of it. They didn't show their face, but they just did a lot of talking. And beating." I cringed, not believing how horrible and hard my lie was to tell. I felt someone squeeze my knee and when I looked up it was Natasha. I flushed and ducked my head, not even able to believe _she _was believing this.

"I don't really know what else to tell you. I was unconscious most of the time and when I woke up I was being dragged but I couldn't see anything. And then I remember being on the street, confused and then I just passed out."

I bit my lip and avoided their eyes, hoping I had done a good job. However, if one of the other teammates had told me the same thing, I knew I wouldn't believe a word of it.

"And he . . . or they, just let you go?" Tony asked. He sounded confused but didn't look quite convinced.

"I guess . . ." I mumbled. "That's what I'm confused about. All of you know as much as I do about kidnappers, stalkers, and the kinds. But they didn't match the criteria. They didn't fit into anything, Which is why I'm just kind of . . . confused, still."

Nat nods slowly, and then Tony sighs and slouches. I quickly glance to Steve, Bruce, and then Barton, who all surprisingly look convinced.

And I want to scream at them. It shouldn't have been that easy. And it kills me that I had actually lied to them but it kills me more that they weren't able to see through it. I wanted to tell them, I wanted to have them be there for me, but it _would_ kill _them_. And that was far worse than a lie to keep them safe.

So I just sat there feeling numb and nodding mutely as they told me they were sorry, how they wished they would have known so they could have watched out for me. How they wished they had found me sooner, how they wished I hadn't experienced that. Tony sat and stared at me, squinting his eyes like he just didn't buy it. I begged any God listening to spare him from his thoughts, to spare him from the trouble of caring about a broken girl like me.

And all I could do was wish they would never find out the truth. At least, not until I was far away and they were safe from me.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed; if you did, please leave a review on your thoughts/ideas/criticism. All is welcome! I would really love to hear what you think. Chapter three is still a work-in-progress and is currently slow moving. Please be patient, but I'll try to have it up as soon as possible!**

**~Quietic**


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